My Hands

Long piano fingers joined on round, cream-coffee palms, thin rings of brown circulate my fingers. Lines stretch across the whiteness of palms, fortune and hardships all knitted into soft, cream skin. Young wrinkles found slightly past thumb, faint to become defined through time. They have wiped the tears from reddened cheeks and felt the broom's splintered wooden handle. Half-grown. So many more experiences and ruts to overcome.